


Kiss Meme: Sorin/Klaus

by Asuka Kureru (Askerian)



Series: Heterodyne!Sorin FanFanFic [7]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Humor, M/M, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/pseuds/Asuka%20Kureru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>… 'Powerful lover', Klaus remembers, and figures out where this is going a second before the boy smiles at him, cheeks already blotching up in incurable embarrassment. "Klaus–"</p><p>Good god, where does the boy get these ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Meme: Sorin/Klaus

**Author's Note:**

> **Anonymous asked: Kiss prompt: Sorin/Klaus, with Veli not feeling jealous because he knows there's nothing to be jealous of.**
> 
>  
> 
> This is Adiduck’s Heterodyne!Sorin AU verse because i couldn’t figure out a way for them to interact in my own 'verse. 
> 
> also I have just now written fanfic for a fanfic of my own fanfic. the inception noises don't stop from getting deeper.
> 
> (now adi says it's canon. okay then.)

"--And how long is your supposed 'powerful lover' going to be 'at the end of this corridor', dearest?"

Klaus arches an eyebrow, signaling Boris to pause as he turns to look back. He knows the voice, of course -- Archmarquess Gaspara Nunziata the Fourth, of Venice. A shrewd and relentless woman, he has found through long years of secret correspondence and open spying; the political summit he's been hosting for the last week on board of Castle Wulfenbach only confirmed it.

"It's not my fault he's always -- oh! Oh."

A handsome woman in her forties, slightly too hard-faced to be charming, arresting by dint of her expression being too sharp to dare pass her without paying the closest attention. And at her side -- leading the charge by one step, barely so, the vaguely squat, messy-haired Sorin Petrescu-Heterodyne, looking rather harassed behind his desperate attempts at polite, distant interest.

Shadowing them are a couple of the Archmarquess' clockwork soldiers and Petrescu's Captain of the Guard, but they're all three doing impressions of wallpaper without personal opinions; Klaus relegates them to the back of his attention the second Petrescu's eyes find his and he... lights up... or tenses up... or...

... 'Powerful lover', Klaus remembers, and figures out where this is going a second before the boy smiles at him, cheeks already blotching up in incurable embarrassment. "Klaus--"

Good god, where does the boy get these ideas.

He signals his other assistants to leave (Boris stays, as always), and tilts his head a little in inquiry.

"Klaus," the boy repeats, and the awkwardness of using his given name would give him away to just about anyone not deaf. "We were -- looking for you."

Then again they might also have a better chance than average to read lips, so probably even those.

He has no idea why the boy thinks it suitable to give that particular rumor any weight at all, though at least the why is obvious; she has been known to favor younger men, and bringing an untried Heterodyne heir under her sway would be quite the coup. Why Petrescu hasn't chosen another way to dissuade her, though, is a mystery.

He has bought himself enough good will in the last few years and the risk of real damage is low enough that Klaus is willing to see where this goes.

Also, considering how tedious hosting the summit continues to be, it would probably be the highlight of Klaus's week.

Petrescu is going to mess it up by being unable to follow through, though. Klaus steps in, wraps an arm around Petrescu's waist. Petrescu's face goes red, even as he slips his arms around Klaus' ribs. (He conscientiously avoids all the noticeable weapons.)

"Archmarquess," Klaus says, polite but unbending, as befits someone whose lover has been troubled. "To what do I owe the interruption?"

"Sorry," Petrescu mumbles. "I just -- tell her I belong to someone already. Please. Love."

... Note to self, set aside five minutes afterwards to laugh out lout about this.

Archmarquess Nunziata's eyes are shrewd, disbelieving. Klaus gives a short indulgent sigh, nudges Petrescu's chin up, brushes a reassuring kiss over his mouth. "Breathe, boy. It wasn't worth getting so flustered about."

At least the way he gasps and buries his face in Klaus' jacket, shoulders drawn in to hide, says 'shy submissive lover' a bit more loudly than it says 'liar, liar, pants on fire.'

She smiles, thin and still challenging -- more appropriately, 'I will challenge you at another date,' which is still a concession of defeat. "Good taste, Herr Baron, good taste."

Klaus snorts quietly. They both know she means his taste in methods of control -- Petrescu's whole body language screams embarrassed, infatuated young man seeking guidance, protection, nothing about how ruthless, how dangerous a Spark he can be in his own right, on his own terrain.

Convenient, that the fact that he's a bad actor is what makes the farce so believable. Amusing, too.

(It's uncomfortable, pressing so physically close to someone not his. He ignores it.)

He pats Petrescu's back with gestures he copies from handling Gil more than any he ever used on Zantabraxus or any of his previous lovers, some centuries ago. (Hah.) "Was there anything else?"

She snorts quietly, inclines her head, wishes the two of them a good day.

"She's gone," Captain Velimir says, ears pricked toward the door at the end of the corridor.

Petrescu flings himself out of Klaus's hold and presses both hands to his face. "Oh my _god_. Oh my god. I'm so sorry."

"Indeed?" Klaus says dryly, and pinches his lips together to keep from looking too amused. "You might want to explain your reasoning in giving that rumor any credence at all, then."

Sorin scrubs his face a last time (he's still scarlet) and meets his eyes, oh, two seconds before he's looking at his ear instead, but his posture is slowly being forced going back to straight and proper. (The boy can be theatrical, or merely completely unschooled.)

"The rumor already exists," he says, trying for terse, "people who want to be sordid already believe it, and it'll be easy enough to discredit her as spurned and making things up if she pushes it."

A brief pause, still composed, and then Petrescu flings his hands and his voice up. "And I _told_ her I was a goddamned invert and she answered she liked to strap inventions on herself that _mimic a man's anatomy! I didn't_ _ **need**_ _to know that!_ "

Klaus briefly loses the battle with his laughter, presses a fist to his mouth and converts it to an unconvincing cough. Behind Petrescu, Captain Velimir is slowly curling in on himself, guffawing into both hands.

"I tried everything!" Petrescu says, and gives up and laughs at himself, chagrined, and groans. "Anyway, she already knows she can't fight you openly and I'm not worth attempting it early and messing up her plans. She would have been really offended by any other reason to turn her down and refused to hear it, and considering she's their lynchpin it would have dragged the whole seventy Italian states into internal strife when I had to crush her. ...Veli, stop laughing."

"Acceptable," Klaus says, with a voice not entirely steady himself. Because of course Petrescu-Heterodyne has two speeds when it comes to wider politics -- 'accommodating to the point of passiveness' and 'taking over'.

"Thank you, glad you think so," Petrescu says drolly, not quite meeting his eyes. His blush still hasn't abated. "I'll see you next week when I'm recovered from death via spontaneous combustion, then, and once again, all my apologies."

Snort.

... He makes it too easy. And it's -- the easy friendliness in his speech, even past the respect and the awe, it gets to Klaus. (Bill would have teased the boy so hard for this little tangle.) "You might be relieved to hear that this is not even the third time I've had to kiss a Heterodyne for various spurious reasons," Klaus says, and doesn't even pretend he's not amused.

The jaeger Captain makes a snort-shrieking, aspirated noise and stops breathing entirely, shoulders shaking.

"... I want to know," Petrescu says, fascinated and horrified both, "and yet I'm sure I will regret knowing all my life."

... God he misses them, he misses those days. They were careless and wild, frenetically happy. It's a softer kind of grieving, today, one that wants to remember, that wants to maybe share a little of what they were like, and Klaus thinks that if they were alive, Bill and Barry would have liked him, and told the most ridiculous true things.

"Antidote," Klaus says, counting on his fingers, "pretending to be lovers to spy on someone-- Barry was disguised as a rather pretty woman -- and a classmate's double-dog dare."

Sorin smothers a sudden laugh into his hand, eyes bright, face finally starting to cool down. "Oh no, not a double-dog dare, those are merciless."

"Bill had not shaved or brushed his teeth that day, it was regrettable."

"... You're trying to break me as revenge for springing this on you, aren't you."

"It's good that you can tell," Klaus deadpans. Petrescu snickers. "You might still benefit from more coaching on how to... mingle in high society, as it were."

"Iffen hyu mean lying polite better, it voz tried," Captain Velimir says, shaking his head with sadness so fake it comes off as laughing.

"Hey! I can be polite in high society just fine."

"Jah," the jaeger says, suddenly entirely proper, not even his eyes betraying him, "except effry time dey lie to hyu face or hyu haff to come up vit sumtin hyuself hyu make de lemon-bitey face. Sir."

"Oh my god, shut up, you did nothing to help except laugh behind my back."

"Hyu deed not vant me to chuck her off de side of de dirigible, though," Velimir says piously.

"Do you think a Spark like her came without some kind of flying engine? I bet there were turbines under her skirts," Petrescu counters, disgusted.

"Quite," Klaus says dryly, to remind them that he's still there. Boris is leaning in, now, reminding him without words that they have a schedule, asking if he needs Boris to be the one to mention it -- they do that, rarely, when Klaus needs to cultivate someone and doesn't wish to come across as resenting their presence, but Petrescu hardly needs it. "And if that will be all...?"

"Oh -- yes, thank you, sir." For a second it looks like Petrescu will detail what he's thankful for, but he stalls, says "Thank you" again.

"Have a good day, then." Klaus turns away.

On the way out he hears Petrescu and his Captain bickering in whispers.

"You're fired."

"Gonna have to tell hyu momma vhy hyu vant me fired first--"

"--I will chuck you off the side of the dirigible--"

"--und den she vill need to know dat mine failure led to hyu kissing der Baron--"

"... Okay, you're unfired. Shut up."

Heh. Klaus makes a note to keep an eye on the personal relations of archmarquess Gaspara Nunziata, and goes back to work.

Zanta would have laughed herself hoarse. (And then probably patted Petrescu's butt, to see him yelp.) Chuckling to himself, he allows Boris to draw him back on task.

 


End file.
